Under Red Covers
by liv.einziger
Summary: A woman is killed in the Madison Complex, where couples who need therapy to fix their marriages participate in a multidisciplinary program, said to be infallible. To investigate, Jane and Lisbon go undercover as a couple whose relationship needs saving.
1. Early Friday Night

**Under Red Covers**

**A woman is killed in the Madison Complex, where couples who need therapy to fix their marriages participate in a multidisciplinary program, said to be infallible. In order to investigate, Jane and Lisbon go undercover as a married couple whose relationship needs saving.**

_**This story is participating on The Humor Party on Tumblr. Also, the "couple therapy" idea was given to me by Madam Spooky. And last but not least, this chapter was beta'd by Bloody Red Righetti.**_

_**Disclaimer: Besides not owning anything, I'm also not too worried about many details concerning whether the stuff depicted here really exist, or how couples therapy really works, or how whatever else that appears here really works; the only purpose is entertainment. :)**_

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><p>1. EARLY FRIDAY NIGHT<p>

My day was going smoothly enough for a Friday. I only had some paperwork to finish, which I was doing while enjoying the peace and quiet in my office, while Jane slumbered soundlessly on my new – and much more comfortable, I must admit – couch. But then, even though I knew better than to brag about it and end up jinxing it, I did innocently think about how lucky it was that I would get to be home early on a Friday night. So, when Van Pelt made a slow and hesitant entrance, with a confusing expression, she hadn't even said a word and I already knew it was nothing good.

"What's the matter, Grace?" I asked impatiently.

"Just got a call from Sac PD," she started timidly, "they want our help on a case."

"Now?" I whined, as though my displeasure could make any difference.

"Have you heard of the Madison Complex suicide?"

"No, what the hell is Madison Complex?"

Van Pelt raised her eyebrows, which probably meant that I should know what that meant.

"It's like a spa, for couple therapy."

"Spa or couple therapy?" I wanted to know, because, to me, the two things didn't belong together.

"It's a spa for couples in therapy;" she clarified. "It's a multidisciplinary program to improve marriages. Here, take a look."

She approached my computer and typed an address into my browser. A second later I was looking at the website of the Madison Complex, a spa created by Dr. Paige Madison with the objective of giving all the aid necessary to fix marriages. As much as I could not understand how taking swimming and dancing classes together in a spa could possibly make any relationship better, I could also not understand how Grace had time to learn about that kind of thing.

"All right, whatever," I gestured for her to let go of my computer and then closed the website. "You were saying there was a suicide there?"

"_Alleged_ suicide," she reiterated, moving her finger accordingly. "The husband kept insisting that she had been murdered, so they had her re-examined by another coroner, who determined she was, indeed, murdered."

"How?" I asked.

"She was injected with something, apparently it's imperceptible through tox screens, but the new coroner found a tiny injection mark."

"Interesting," I heard Jane's voice, and it made me roll my eyes. He was wide awake on the couch now; I hadn't noticed him sitting up.

"So what do they want us to do?" I asked Van Pelt while ignoring Jane.

"They're actually bringing the husband, they'll be here any minute. They want us to take over."

She seemed to think that I would like the part where Sac PD wanted the CBI to take over the investigation, but I knew from experience that, whenever the local police wanted to completely leave the case up to us, it was because it was something practically impossible to solve.

"Great," I said, cringing, while I thought, sadly, _there goes my early Friday night_.

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><p>Lisbon and I entered the interrogation room; she was stomping hard in a characteristic demonstration of her unwillingness. I was curious; if it was a murder, then the husband was supposed to be the main suspect. But if he were guilty, it would've been much easier to just allow everyone to continue thinking it was a suicide instead of insisting someone had killed her. So yes, I was eager to see how he would behave and what I could observe from his demeanor. We sat opposite to him.<p>

"Mr. Demming," Lisbon said, putting her hands together on the table. "I'm Agent Lisbon and this is Patrick Jane."

"Thanks for talking to me, Agents," he said. "You need to find the person who killed my wife!"

He seemed a little exasperated, but that could be a symptom of many things.

"That's the plan," Lisbon replied dryly, then went right down to business. "You say this person is in this so-called… Madison Complex?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, we were there when she was killed."

"But you think it was an employee or someone who's staying there?"

"I don't know, Agent, I'm sorry. All I know is that somebody injected her with something, and I don't even know why!"

It looked like he was about to start crying; Lisbon didn't look impressed though.

"So you have no idea of who might have wanted to hurt her?"

"Absolutely no idea! She was such a lovely person, she made friends so easily… Everybody loved her!"

"Oh, great," she muttered.

"Clearly, not everyone," I pointed out, which granted me a death glare from her. Well, I guessed I was only being specific.

But the thing is we did not get anything concrete from the interview with Daniel Demming, except for the brilliant idea I had for us to catch the killer of his wife, Alexis. I told Lisbon as much, and she demanded to know what the idea was.

"Let's go over to Hightower and clear it with her," I suggested, innocently, just trying to keep it by the book for a change, but she did not seem happy with that either. That was a hard girl to please.

"What plan?" she asked, and even stopped walking so I would look at her and see just how mad she already was. "I demand you tell me immediately!"

"I will tell you immediately, at Hightower's office…"

I managed to convince her to get in the elevator with me, swearing it was nothing illegal, and that she might even like it, but that seemed to make her even more apprehensive. I guessed next time I would try reverse psychology; I would scare her really bad, making her think it was something that would piss off even the president, just so she would be relieved afterwards and even end up thanking me. We arrived at Hightower's office.

"Lisbon, Jane," the boss said, with a smile in the corner of her mouth. "What can I do for you two?"

"Jane says he has a plan to help us catch the murderer in the Madison Complex case." Lisbon said, as though to make it clear now I would have to reveal my plan.

Well, why should I not? Did she really doubt me this much? Had I not, just a minute ago, convinced her to come with me to Hightower's office just so we could tell her what the plan was? I smiled at her paranoia.

"It's actually something very simple," I started, and I could feel Lisbon's angry eyes turning to me, as if she doubted the veracity of my statement, or already hated me for whatever she thought might follow my introduction. "I suggest Lisbon and I go undercover as a couple who want to go through therapy at the Madison Complex."

"What?" Lisbon hissed instantly.

But I was more interested in Hightower's reaction; she took a hand to her chin, probably thinking.

"That way we can get close to the other couples," I argued, "and get to know the staff and they won't be as reserved about what they might know about the murder as they'd be if they knew we were investigating."

"Are you out of your damn mind?" Lisbon hissed again, pinching my arm this time.

"Lisbon!" I reprimanded her, hoping she would understand I meant her use of language was inappropriate towards a higher figure in the hierarchy.

"Actually," Hightower was saying, fixing on Lisbon, "I think this might work. If you arrived there as investigators, everyone would have their defenses up and they might not tell you anything. If you arrive as average guests, they might want to gossip about it."

Lisbon looked mortified. I almost pitied her.

"I think you should get on it right now. I'll coordinate the rest of your team to look at the priors of all the staff and guests staying at the complex on the day of the murder."

As soon as we were back in the elevator, Lisbon slapped my arm with all her strength.

"Ouch!" I said.

"That's why you wanted to go to Hightower! You knew she'd like it and tell me to do it despite what I think of it!"

"Come on, Lisbon," I tried to reason. "How bad can a few free massages be? Besides, I really think that's the best way for us to find the killer. Don't you want to find the killer?"

"I would very much prefer not to do it during the weekend, and not to do it undercover, and not to do it undercover as your wife in a spa for couple's therapy!" she took both her hands to her face. "Oh, my goodness!"

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><p>So I was, in the end, home early on Friday night, but the reason for that was that I had to <em>pack<em> so that I could go into a spa for couples in therapy _with Jane_ the next morning. Yay. I hated packing; I always had an overnight bag in the car and that was the amount of packing I could do without getting stressed out. I never knew what I would need for any longer period than that, and I honestly had no idea of what kind of clothes people took to a spa. An hour and a half later, I had practically taken down my whole wardrobe but barely anything had gone into the suitcase. That is when my bell rang.

I ran downstairs really fast, wishing it weren't the person I was thinking it might be. But, when I looked through the peephole… of course it was. I opened it, sighing out loud already.

"What do you want, Jane?"

"To help you pack, of course," he said, smiling irritably, and I noticed that he held a suitcase of his own.

"What makes you think I'm having any trouble packing?"

"Lisbon… really?" he smirked.

I just sighed and let him in.

"I know I'm gonna regret this, but how do you know?"

"Well, I had a strong suspicion, knowing you… But then seeing you I was sure. You haven't even changed after you got home, you look really stressed, and I bet you've had a few drinks."

"All right, stop bragging about it okay?" I said, turning my back and heading for the stairs.

He probably took it as a sign to follow me up, and he did, which I wasn't happy about, but if he claimed he could help me and I was having such a hard time packing anyway… whatever, right? So I stopped at the door and he stopped next to me, looking into the bedroom, at the bed covered with clothes. I knew what would follow…

"Oh my goodness, Lisbon!"

Just for the pleasure of teasing me, I was sure.

"Can you do anything?" I asked, not intending to waste another minute.

As it turns out, Jane was pretty good with packing. And why was it that I thought he wouldn't find a way to impress me again? He did choose many things I barely ever wore, like a summer dress I had gotten as a present and never even tried on, but he convinced me the choices weren't supposed to be mine, but Anna Coleman's. Oh yes, that would be my name. And his? Andrew Coleman. Lovely, huh? I was like whatever, because, to me, the whole thing was a nightmare, I did not see how the names could make anything any better or any worse.

So, anyway, he exemplified by telling me he didn't have one single three-piece suit in his suitcase. Instead, he was carrying some shirts, jeans, the usual for the casual wardrobe of a modern, ordinary married man, he said. I argued that he seemed to have really thought it all through, to which he replied, automatically, "of course, my dear, when do I ever not think anything through?" Just Jane being Jane.

Thankfully, with his help the job was done quite fast and he even helped me rearrange the clothes that did not go into the suitcase back into the wardrobe. Then, when I was thanking him and sort of driving him towards the door, he informed me he would be spending the night in my place. I was – obviously – not amused at all.

"What do you mean? Where the hell did that idea come from?"

"Well, since I'm already here and it's past midnight and I've got my suitcase and we really do have to take off really early tomorrow morning… Then I guess it's the perfect idea."

Too tired to argue, and since he got settled on my couch anyway, claiming it was really comfortable, I just left him there and went upstairs, cursing the day that was ahead of me.

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><p>I did not, of course, get much sleep that night on Lisbon's couch, not because of my surroundings, but because I never did really get much sleep anywhere. Since I was there, in her living room, though, I waited until she'd had enough time to settle down and fall asleep and I started going through her stuff. I'm nosy, that's just me, and I won't say that I'm not. I wanted to go through her stuff and so I did. I'm not really ashamed at all. My first target was the unpacked boxes in the corners. She obviously had moved into this apartment quite a long time ago; why had she never unpacked those? As soon as I got a look at them, I got actually ashamed of myself for not having figured it out. Those were memories from her parents; pictures, personal belongings. Things she couldn't unpack, but couldn't throw away either. I judged better to leave them there, not messed with.<p>

I also went through her books, her CDs (besides that Spice Girls one that I'd seen in an earlier opportunity), her pictures – from herself and her brothers only. I even found a few photos of her as a little girl and I must say, she already held her head high then, challengingly, those big, bold green eyes occupying most of her beautiful, freckled face. I had to muffle a chuckle then. I had never really entirely acknowledged how fascinating she was to me. As easy as she was to read most of the time, sometimes she just seemed to become all written in a completely foreign language, and I couldn't see anything. I was really curious about her and that's why I constantly tried to get different reactions using many kinds of tricks. I needed distractions and she was one of my favorites.

That was another reason why I had thought of that plan; it would be an opportunity to learn more about Lisbon and mess with her like no other. And I felt like I had the right to indulge myself these little pleasures, these little distractions, because of the mess my daily life was. Selfish, I know, but I wouldn't have gotten Lisbon into this if I didn't truly believe she would have her fun as well. Even if she swore she was going through hell. My search continued in her kitchen; nearly no food inside the fridge, as I had expected, quite a few bottles of alcoholic beverages, more than you'd find in the average mid-thirties woman's apartment, I believe, and a good quantity of coffee powder in storage. The coffee maker really seemed like the most if not only used item in that kitchen.

I realized, though, that searching without having her begging me to stop as well as trying to conceal things from me was not as fun, so I went back to the comfy couch and lay there some more, waiting for sleep to make its appearance. I slumbered a few times, but no deep sleep. In the last of these naps I was half-awake and I could hear Lisbon's alarm upstairs. I then heard her steps down the stairs, trying not to make too much noise, and I got a glimpse of her naked legs as her jersey only covered a little below her behind. I knew I was attracted to her and I didn't even try to lie to myself about that, so I just smiled crookedly with my eyes narrowed as she went straight to the kitchen to make – a real surprise – coffee.

A few minutes later she went up the stairs again with a giant mug of the hot drink, probably to get dressed. Of course she didn't have anything to eat in the morning; that was so like her. I stood up then, my stomach telling me it was empty, and I was wondering if there was any chance of finding anything edible in the apartment, as well as any kind of tea…


	2. Truth and Acting

_**This chapter was beta'd by the amazing Iloveplotbunnies. **_

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><p>2. TRUTH AND ACTING<p>

"So, how are we gonna go about this?" I asked, as soon as we were driving on our way to the Madison Complex.

We were in a different car, one that looked more like a normal couple's car than the CBI SUVs equipped with police radios and sirens or Jane's antique contraption of a car. It had been rented for the operation, and Jane had brought it to my apartment the night before, which I of course hadn't noticed. He was driving, which I wasn't happy about, but had agreed upon for the sake of our undercover task. He had also brought fake wedding bands for us and we were wearing perfectly common clothes.

"What do you mean?" he asked, innocently.

"I mean what are we gonna tell Dr. Madison, for example, about _our marriage_?" I stressed the last two words.

"Why don't you stop worrying about that? Just leave it all up to me." he smugly reassured me. "And play along when necessary. We should be just fine."

It appeared as I wasn't going to get much more than that from him as a plan, which made me completely desperate; I already hated whatever was about to come, and not knowing what was going to happen just made it all that much worse. I was also sure Jane would find countless ways to mess with me and humiliate me, just for the fun of it. I had to contain urges of opening the door and jumping out of the car right there and then.

Not enough long a drive later, we arrived. I had never been to any spas in my life, but the property seemed, at a first look, as big as a university campus. We were greeted by a very smiley young woman at the entrance, who welcomed us. I felt my cheeks burning up with the fear of being suspected of; Jane gave her one of those dazzling smiles, and, like a fool, she smiled back at him, which made me doubt she was paying enough attention to me to notice anything unusual. Then, she asked his name. As if I wasn't even there.

"Coleman," he informed her. "Andrew Coleman. And this is my lovely wife, Anna Coleman."

He put an arm around me as he introduced me, and I wondered if I looked as uncomfortable with the sudden proximity as I felt. Either way, the woman didn't seem to notice, either because she was still too impressed with Jane or because it was probably normal to see couples behaving awkwardly towards each other in this place. What matters, though, is that she wrote down our made-up names and let us past.

"I'm Jenny and you can come to me if you ever need anything. My colleague at the entrance of the accommodations will help you check in. Welcome to Madison Complex!"

We nodded; Jane was smiling cheerfully, but me, well, I wasn't smiling very much, no. Jane took my hand in his as we strolled into the property, and he was still smiling, rather amused with something.

"No need to be grumpy," he said. "I only used my charm to get us in with no suspicions."

"I'm not grumpy!" I protested, outraged. "And certainly not because of _that_!"

"Lies!" he said, affectedly, looking like he was already having lots of fun with it all.

By then we were entering the accommodations building, which was the first you saw as you walked into the property, and there we met another smiley young woman, this one blonde, "Debra" written on her nametag. She went through all the bureaucratic stuff with us and then informed us that in half an hour we would have an appointment to see Dr. Madison. We could use those minutes in the meantime to get settled in our room. _Our room_. Oh no.

"So how did you learn about the Complex?" Debra asked casually as she led us cheerfully on our way there.

Jane threw his arm around my waist while we walked, and gave me a little squeeze so as to give me the heads up on something.

"We were told about it by our friends, Daniel and Alexis Demming," he risked answering, and I watched the woman go rigid for a moment. "Do you know them? They're actually supposed to be here, would you be able to tell us where they're staying?"

The young woman simply did not know what to say. She looked very, very embarrassed, as if she suddenly had no idea what she was supposed to do next. We had arrived then at a room, number 317, and she gestured towards the door, fumbling with the card key.

"Th-this is your room," she said stuttering, avoiding our eyes completely. "Don't forget the appointment with Dr. Madison in twenty-five minutes. Enjoy your stay and good luck with everything."

She handed me the key card, which I used to open the door as Jane observed her leaving, probably still scrutinizing. After we had both entered and I had locked the door, I sighed, keeping from paying attention to the room.

"Very weird reaction," I commented, but Jane's reaction to it was completely unexpected.

"Sssshhhhhhhhh!" he hissed all of a sudden, approaching me and placing a finger over my mouth. Then, he gave me a hug so he could whisper into my ear. "We have to check the room for bugs."

"What?" I whispered back.

"We don't know what we're dealing with here; everyone is a suspect. Right, agent?"

Then he pulled away, looking intently into my eyes, opening a wide smile.

"Isn't this nice?" he gestured with outstretched arms. "I'm so glad to be here with you, my love."

"So am I," I said mechanically without looking at him, now actually paying attention to the modern and elegant decoration in the room.

In the center of the room, there was a huge bed that looked like the most comfortable bed you'd ever slept in. On both sides, two beautiful hardwood nightstands supporting very expensive-looking lamps. Near the entrance, were we were standing, there was a kind of a small living room, with a big couch and two armchairs, a glass coffee table in the middle with a beautiful vase of colorful flowers as a centerpiece, and a fireplace covered with a beautiful mantelpiece. On our right side, there were two doors; one led to a bathroom, and the other to a walk-in closet. I suddenly noticed our bags sitting on the floor by the door, and a stupid comment escaped.

"We didn't bring enough clothes to put in there."

Jane chuckled, walking a bit further while looking at the room. Looking for bugs, maybe? I decided to do the same. I was just telling myself how stupid it was; of course there weren't going to be any, they wouldn't dare play big brother, it was a felony. But then I noticed something strange.

"J- _Andrew_," I called, correcting myself quickly before I could get it wrong. "Look at this _beautiful_ chandelier."

"Oh, it really is beautiful," he commented, nodding significantly, then pointed at the lamps. "Did you see these _lovely_ lamps?"

I nodded, approaching to take a better look.

"I wish we had them at home," I commented.

Jane walked across the room, took our bags and entered the closet. I followed a moment later.

"Close the door," he whispered, and I did what he said, approaching him and expecting an explanation. "No bugs in here," he said in a low voice.

"Why do you think there's a camera in the chandelier and microphones in the lamps?" I asked with urgency.

"And there might be more," Jane added.

"What the hell is wrong around here?" That didn't make any sense to me.

"Maybe they want to make sure the program is working," he surmised, with a meaningful eyebrow movement.

"Oh," I interjected, disgusted. "Do you think they watch people…?"

"The camera is sure aimed at the bed," he reminded me, with a crooked smile. What could be so funny about that? Didn't he understand the part where we would be filmed as well? Only_ sleeping_… but still!

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><p>Lisbon and I entered the tastefully decorated room. The walls were a faint green, decorated with a few big abstract paintings. The furniture was modern and the chairs looked very comfortable. Dr. Madison received us with a wide smile, even though I could see that there was something bothering her. Maybe her name being dragged into the mud with the news of recent events?<p>

"So, you are the Colemans, right?" she asked, gesturing for us to sit down in a two-seat couch across from her armchair, in which she sat. "Anna and Andrew Coleman?"

"Yes, Dr. Madison." I confirmed, a warm smile to show her I was willing to trust her.

"Well, what brings you here?" she asked, looking at us analytically, supporting her face with her hand.

There was a moment of silence. Lisbon didn't know what to say; she certainly looked like she had no idea. I decided to go with a little reality so as to trigger her to act naturally.

"Well," I started, looking down to make it seem like I was feeling ashamed or somehow diminished in my manhood. "She doesn't treat me like her husband anymore. It's almost as if… she's my boss or something."

She looked at me, flabbergasted. I had to make a huge effort not to laugh. She did what I wanted her to, though, and jumped right into the game.

"Well," she retorted, looking alternately between me and the doctor, "he insists on doing everything exactly the opposite of what I'd like him to!"

"Do you see what I mean, doctor?" I leaned forward, a hand to my chest, adding some despair into my voice.

"Doctor, he sneaks around behind my back! He never tells me what he's up to! I'm always in the dark when it comes to him, trying to interpret his every move, because he just can't tell me things! Tell me, what would be the difficulty in just telling me things? It's not like I'd stop him from doing what he wants, I just want to know!"

I could not describe exactly how much fun I was having watching her. I maintained my façade, though. Dr. Madison was watching our exchange carefully, taking the occasional note.

"Oh, _Anna_," I emphasized her name, "be reasonable… Since when does a husband need to tell his wife his every move? Now I'm entering the supermarket. Now I'm pulling up at the gas station!"

"Don't!" she lifted her index finger irritably. "You know exactly what I mean, _Andrew_!"

"Do I? Like you tell me what you mean!" I whined, looking at her with an offended expression. "Or what you're feeling, for that matter! But no, you keep everything inside you, locked up for nobody to see, not even me!"

"Well, you claim you can read me, that I'm translucent!" the mockery in her voice could have been extremely annoying had this been a real argument.

"Well, the fact that I can read you doesn't at all mean that you don't have to tell me things! Isn't that right, doctor? In a relationship, the least you can have is communication!"

"Seriously?" Lisbon almost jumped in her seat. "Are you seriously complaining that _I _don't communicate with you? Doctor, he has many times left me behind and taken the car! When we were… _out_ together!"

I felt a slight twinge of guilt; she must have been really upset those times. It was still utterly amusing to watch though.

"All right," the doctor waved her hands. "That's enough. Let's try to organize this better. So I can assume that communication is a key point here."

I observed as the doctor took careful notes, then I directed a playful look at Lisbon, who looked genuinely irritated. Of course. Maybe for her this _was_ a real argument. I smiled internally, for we were not finished.

"And trust," I added, in a grave tone. "She doesn't trust me."

She just looked at me, silently asking me if that was necessary.

"Baby," I started justifying, "aren't we here to try to fix things? We might as well tell her the truth. Or are you gonna deny it? That you don't trust me?"

"Doctor, I have every reason not to trust him," she confirmed, looking at Dr. Madison. "He has countless times lied to me, saying he was going somewhere and he was somewhere else; saying he was gonna do something, then he did something else."

That actually hurt to hear. It wasn't the first time she said the words, but I thought she might have changed her opinion at least a little bit by now.

"And what did you really do when you lied to your wife, Mr. Coleman?" the doctor asked. "Have you ever cheated on her?"

"Never!" I assured her, with an intensity that was surprising even to me. "I might prefer not to tell her about my every move, but I'd never, ever do anything to hurt her."

That was the truth. Lisbon was staring intently at me, I could see out of the corner of my eye, but I decided I didn't want to stare back for some reason. Dr. Madison went on taking notes. Then, she looked at us once more, examining carefully.

"I can see the physical restraint between you two," she stated. "Tell me, honestly, when was the last time you were intimate?"

By Lisbon's expression, I could see the remembrance of the surveillance camera in the bedrooms coming back to her.

"I can't even remember," I informed, shrugging hopelessly.

"I can tell," the doctor nodded. "It's almost as if… as if you never _were_ intimate."

She was good, I had to admit to myself then. Lisbon tensed next to me. I couldn't tell if Dr. Madison _was_ sensing our façade or not, but I decided going on with the acting was the best I could do.

"I feel that way too sometimes," I whined.

"Oh do you?" Lisbon suddenly asked, looking at me furiously. "Tell the doctor how you haven't even _tried_ anything for _months_!"

I had to contain the urge to smile. She was having her fun! I felt genuinely proud.

"All right, this is nobody's fault," Dr. Madison tried to make peace. "All in all, I think we can all agree that the objective here is restoring your marriage. I have already helped many couples and just by looking at you I can see how much you love each other. That is the most important thing and the one that really matters in order to be successful."

Both of us were a bit baffled by her words. Could it be that our little improvisation had served its purpose so well? The doctor had seemed like such a good observer. Well, maybe she said that part about love being the most important part to every couple. Yes, that seemed likely. We politely shook her hand and left. When we were back in our room, Lisbon went straight to the walk-in closet. Apparently, I was supposed to conclude that she wanted me to follow her there, because, a few seconds later, she opened the door and gestured agitatedly for me to join her.

"What the hell was that?" she hissed, as soon as I got there, and her desperate, offended expression was too amusing.

"Well, _that_, my dear, is how we go about this," I explained, matter-of-factly. "A little bit of truth, a little bit of acting."


	3. First Impressions

_**I don't even know what to say after such a long time without any updates. One thing I want to say, though, is that, despite all the reasons that kept me from writing and updating, I never gave up on this story. So here is a new chapter, I hope you all enjoy it. Merry Christmas! :)**_

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><p>3. FIRST IMPRESSIONS<p>

In the twenty minutes or so that we spent in the bedroom after our appointment with Dr. Madison, I was mostly thinking about how Jane had dragged me into this stunt and how, at that point, there was no getting out anymore. I was also thinking about the appointment itself, and how our daily banter had conveniently sounded like marital problems. I chuckled to myself at the thought.

Jane was a manipulator, and a good one, I had to recognize. He had triggered me just enough to make me play along, and it had worked out really well. He had said that the secret to the effectiveness of the approach was in the true part in it. But now, taking the fun part out of it, how much of that true part had to do with a married couple's behavior?

I questioned myself whether there was anything to it. I can't say why, but I did. Had Dr. Madison really believed, easy as that, that we were a couple, even with the years of experience in dealing with real married couples? It occurred to me that she was either pretending to, so she could find out why we really were there if we weren't really married, or there was something about our relationship that reminded her of the one a married couple would have.

I looked down at my fake wedding ring. I had never really given much thought to whether I would marry someone or not. I had only worried about building a life for myself, a career, being able to not depend on anybody else but myself in as many ways as possible… I hadn't really planned marriage into that ideal life I had envisioned as a young girl.

Coherently, life hadn't prioritized finding me a husband more than I had, and I found myself having accomplished most of the things I had wanted to, and now contemplating the fact that I hadn't gotten married. I hadn't even had a relationship that had ever gotten close to that possibility. Another glance at the prop on my finger brought me the idea of Jane as my fake husband. What if Jane was my husband? My lips involuntarily curved in a smile. It would never work!

My thoughts were interrupted by Jane's voice, coming from the couch by the door.

"I can hear your brain working from here," he stated. "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing," I answered, probably a little too quickly.

He didn't reply, which told me he had noticed I _really_ didn't want to disclose the contents of my thoughts at the moment he had interrupted me; I just saw his figure emerging from the couch and approaching the bed, were I was sitting cross-legged. He didn't say anything, all too aware of the camera and microphones around us, but he gave me a meaningful look before speaking. A look that told me he would address the issue later on.

"Hungry?" he asked.

I wasn't.

* * *

><p>Lunch felt like a great opportunity to mingle with the other couples. I was also terribly hungry due to having eaten nothing at Lisbon's in the early morning. We were the only new couple that Saturday and, from what we had been able to gather thus far, nobody had checked in since the <em>incident<em>, which nobody was talking about – it seemed like some kind of code of silence – but the dates coincided. For that reason, we were clearly the main attraction at the canteen when we entered, as all heads turned in our direction and many comments were made.

We were supposed to order what we wanted at the counter and then choose a table and wait, so I took a look at the menu and showed it to Lisbon. She barely ran her eyes over it and cringed, looking away.

"I don't want anything, I'm not hungry."

"Meh," I replied, "of course you are. You didn't have anything for breakfast."

She turned to me, annoyance all over her face.

"What are you now, my father?"

I caught a glimpse of a woman watching our every move. I decided it was time for a little acting.

"No, but I'm your loving husband, and I'm trying to take care of you. Haven't we just left Dr. Madison's office? Would you at least _try_ to be a bit nicer?"

She cocked her head to the side, not a tiny bit less annoyed, looking at me through narrowed eyes. I ignored her and ordered meals for us both, then led her with a hand to her back.

"Let's sit over there," I said, pointing with a slight nod at that woman and her husband's table. "The place is full enough for us to go with the excuse that we need to share a table and they seem very well informed. They're talking about everyone in this room, especially us."

We approached the couple; when the woman noticed we were heading for their table, she looked away, but she wasn't embarrassed at all. Her husband looked up at us, and I didn't miss the fact that he measured Lisbon up and down – and seemed pleased with what he saw. She really looked particularly good without the badge and cop-attitude on, even though I'd grown used to the beauty of her like that as well. She wore a simple jeans, boots and a blue blouse. I had convinced her to put on some accessories and she had gone with earrings and a ring, while removing her beloved, trademark crucifix, which she had carefully hidden in a pocket in her purse. But she really didn't need much to look good. I knew well that many wives hated her right now because their husbands wanted her – and these husbands hated _me._ I confess I felt a bit proud then that she was _mine_, even if not truly…

Anyway, we stopped at their table and I quickly introduced ourselves.

"Hello there!" I said cheerfully, and Lisbon helped by smiling at them too, this time not forcedly. "I'm Andrew Coleman and this is my wife, Anna. Would you mind terribly if we sat with you? We're new here…"

"We can see that!" the wife said, rather bitterly, but then she smiled, however a bit wryly. "Please, join us! My name is Joyce Wyler and this is my husband Glen."

"Nice to meet you!" I shook both their hands and so did _Anna_.

Clearly, Joyce was the boss, so to speak, in the relationship. Glen didn't even need to introduce himself; she spoke for them both. I sat down, pulling a chair for Lisbon as well. She sat next to me, still smiling. It's amusing how she doesn't have the gift of starting conversations with strangers unless she flashes her badge first, giving her permission to ask whatever questions she wants to. I took her hand between mine, and she didn't offer resistance, which was good because Joyce was paying attention to every detail.

"We've just arrived, really," I explained, exchanging my focus between Joyce and Glen. "What a beautiful place!"

"That it is," Glen spoke for the first time. "It's been our place to vacation at for the last three years."

I wondered whose initiative it was – I mean, to choose the place as a vacationing spot. Their marriage didn't seem to be in trouble; she would lead, he would follow. The only problem was it didn't look like a marriage, I laughed to myself internally. I decided it was her. Not only because she seemed to call all the shots, but also because she really wanted to fix that marriage. In her own crooked way, she loved her husband, but blamed him for never trying to defy her. If he were in bed as complacent as he was in a conversation… I could understand how she would try to change him somehow. I imagined what their sessions with Dr. Madison must be like. Then I shrugged off my sudden interest, which was due to my taste for reading people and figuring them out, remembering why exactly we were here.

"Oh really?" I asked, smiling warmly. "We're on vacation too, we came because our friends said it was great. They were here, but apparently they left, maybe you know them… Daniel and Alexis Demming?"

Joyce and Glen Wyler exchanged a meaningful look. Then Joyce, obviously, turned to us looking incredulous. I had to restrain myself strongly not to laugh then.

"Excuse me, but don't you read the news?" she asked dryly.

Lisbon reflexively jerked back in her chair at the woman's disrespectful ways. I furrowed my brow like I didn't have a clue what she was talking about.

"Alexis Demming killed herself," Glen explained. "Right here in the Complex."

While I was preparing my shock, Joyce scoffed.

"Killed herself," she repeated mockingly, then reiterated. "She was murdered."

"Alexis is dead?" Lisbon spoke, surprising me. She covered her mouth with both hands. "Oh my God!"

She seemed genuinely worried, and I felt hugely proud of her acting skills. She turned to me, despair on her face, then she threw her face against my chest, hiding. I held her close, shaking my head, in shock, hoping my pride at her surprising talent for deception wouldn't show in my expression.

"How come we didn't hear about it?" I said, as though asking myself. "She died?"

"She was found dead in her bedroom," Glen explained. "From what we hear it could be an overdose of something."

"But if it'd been only a suicide," Joyce argued, "the police wouldn't have been here so many times. She was found last Tuesday, and they came on Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and yesterday. They came, looked around, asked questions…"

Lisbon turned her head so she could see the couple, but I was still holding her.

"And they said it was a murder?" she asked.

"No they didn't," Joyce replied, seeming completely immune to _Anna's_ apparent shock. "In my opinion, they don't have a clue what happened."

Lisbon looked at me, worried.

"What about Daniel?" she whimpered. "He must be devastated!"

I stroked her hair and was about to say something soothing when I heard Joyce scoff again. I looked at her questioningly.

"I bet he's not," she explained herself, without a hint of guilt for saying something like that.

Lisbon pulled away from me to have a better look at her.

"How so?" she asked, very cop-like, and I almost reached for her to hug her again, just to keep her from dropping the character altogether.

"They just didn't get along," Joyce explained, and it seemed like she didn't suspect of anything after Lisbon's slight change in behavior. "Right, Glen?"

For the first time, wife and husband seemed to communicate and agree. Glen nodded, chewing his food and then swallowing it.

"This place," he said, "it does wonders for your marriage, you'll see that! But nothing seemed to be working for them."

I laughed internally once again. Had this place done wonders for Joyce and Glen's marriage? I strongly doubted it. Especially in the face of how many vacations they had spent insisting on that attempt. But I kept that thought to myself, still focusing on my character.

"Oh," I said, a bit of feigned, a bit of genuine surprise at Glen's words. I remembered Daniel in our interrogation room, looking devastated, as well as I remembered believing he did feel devastated. "They said it was working, that's why they said we should come in our next vacation. But then, we don't see them that often… We're not _that_ close…"

"That's really horrible," Lisbon said, shaking her head, then looked at me. "Let's give Daniel a call later."

"Sure, honey," I said, taking her hand in mine again and sensing that Cho was probably the person she wanted to call later.

When our food arrived, the Wylers were already finished so they excused themselves and left. We ate silently, unsure about whether there were microphones everywhere or just in the bedrooms. When we left the restaurant and reached our room, I was considering taking a nap when Jenny came to us, smiling cheerfully.

"Here's your activity for this afternoon, suggested by Dr. Madison," she announced, handing me a sheet of paper with what we were supposed to do next.

"What's this?" I asked, pointing to where it said that the activity would start in twenty minutes, genuinely cringing.

"This is the Maze activity," she explained. "You'll find all about it soon enough. Have fun!"

And she left. I looked at Lisbon and she was rolling her eyes. We entered the room and she went straight to the closet. I followed, wondering if she wanted to make any comments, but when I closed the door she was already dialing a number in her phone.

"Cho," she said, in a low voice. "I need you to interview the husband again. We hear they didn't get along that well. Check his priors and ask him in detail where he was and what he was doing while she was murdered. Call me as soon as you have anything. If I can't pick up, then text me. Can you do that?"

Poor Cho. She was grumpier than usual. As soon as she hung up, I tried to make her smile a little.

"Great acting back there," I said.

"Thanks," was her emotionless reply. "Now get out."

"Why?" I asked.

"Because I need to change," she said, pointing at the Maze activity description. "It says we need to be wearing sports clothing."

She was right. Under the title "Maze" there was an observation in much smaller letters. When I was done reading, she handed me my sports clothes – a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt.

"Thanks, sweetheart," I teased, just for the fun of it, and left, not really excited about having to change into those clothes when all I really wanted for the moment was the comfort of the couch.


	4. In the Dark

**_The only thing I want to say is: don't give up on this story. I certainly haven't. No matter how long it takes me, with my thesis and everything that's going on at the moment, I will finish it. Hope you enjoy the chapter. :)_**

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><p>4. IN THE DARK<p>

"This exercise is called The Maze and its goal is to stimulate communication," a woman who introduced herself as Coach Jill Williams started to explain. I was rolling my eyes, wondering how all those people could spend their money on such crap.

"The idea is that the two of you will enter the maze," she wet on, "which will be completely dark, and you'll have to find a way to reach the end _together_. You can't touch one another; the couple that does will be eliminated from the game. So the only way you can lead each other is by communicating vocally. If anybody loses their spouse on the way, they'll both be eliminated as well. And how are we going to know that? We have infra-red cameras, of course. We'll be watching you, but we can't _hear_ you, so if anybody feels anything weird, please ask for help by making signs with your arms to the cameras."

"Like hell they can't hear us," I muttered to Jane, and his answer was only a distracted grin.

The truth is he seemed completely absorbed in his own thoughts; I figured that, if I knew him well, he was thinking of the perfect strategy to win the game, competitive as he was. I had to smile.

"And what do you get if you get out of the maze together?" Coach Williams asked, then answered herself. "You get two tickets to our exclusive dinner party tonight. Trust me, you want those tickets! And there's something else; the first couple to find their way out of the maze wins a secret prize! Any doubts?"

Jane certainly had none. I just watched as a mischievous smile formed on his lips.

"What?" I couldn't help but ask.

He looked at me and widened his smile.

"We're gonna win this thing."

"Oh, are we?" I mocked, but I knew better. I knew he had a plan, and what was worse: I knew it might as well work.

Then, a woman asked a question and I recognized her; Joyce Wyler, with her husband standing right next to her, like her puppy dog.

"What if we touch accidentally?" she was asking.

"Like I said," Coach Williams started, "we'll be watching, so don't worry; we'll be able to tell the difference between when you touch by accident and when it's done on purpose."

I sighed; this was going to be a huge waste of time. It would only get us tired for no reason. But then, I thought, if we managed to make it into that special party, we might get a chance of finding out more from the other couples. I checked my cell, but no calls or texts from Cho yet.

"So here's the plan," Jane started. "If we can't see each other or touch each other, then we have to be talking all the time, so I know you're there and you know I'm there."

"Do you really think we won't be able to see anything?" I asked, cringing.

And yes, when we did enter the maze, it was really, really dark. My first impulse was to grab Jane's arm, just so I wouldn't lose him in the middle of the other couples also entering, but I was able to stop myself.

"Anna?" I heard him, right next to me.

"I'm here," I replied, then whispered something, trying to approach his ear. "This feels so much like the academy all over again."

"Police academy?" he asked, keeping his voice down too, and I could tell he was amused. "Did you have to do things like this?"

I sincerely hoped nobody could hear us talking about this, but I was counting on the voices of the other couples to muffle our whispers.

"Not exactly," I replied, "but yeah, lots of pointless activities that wouldn't cause much improvement in our abilities."

"It must have been the cutest thing ever," he whispered back, chuckling, "you, about twenty-something, teeny tiny, wearing a cop uniform!"

I laughed wholeheartedly for a moment, and I could hear him laugh as well despite the other voices. And then his voice was gone, and I could only hear other people.

"Where are you J-… Andrew?" I asked, not enjoying the darkness and the sudden loneliness.

"I'm right here," was his relieving answer, coming from right next to me. "Let's keep talking," he encouraged.

"About what?" I asked.

"Anything. Tell me about how you were in college."

"Oh, Andrew, come on," I defended myself. "You _already_ know all there is to know about that."

"I know, darling," he said. "But I don't know the _details._"

"As I don't know the details about _your_ time in college," I pointed out, "so why don't you tell me about that?"

He grinned, and I wished I could see his face; he had never been to college, so why didn't he invent a whole story about that to help back up our cover as well as keep us talking during the activity?

"All right then," he said, and I was curious about the story he would make up. "If you don't want to tell me the details, I'll just guess, because, well, I _do_ know you so well."

I scoffed; he was such a cheat. But I didn't agree or disagree. If I'm telling the truth, I was really curious about what he thought I was like in college. And about whether he was right or not.

"For starters," he began, "you didn't make friends easily. You weren't there to fool around, so no friends for parties, for cutting classes, for getting drunk. Like a good girl, you went home every day after class, did your homework and, in the free time, got distracted with old movies and… jazz?"

I didn't confirm, but there was nothing to refute.

"Anna?"

"I'm here," I said, refusing to refer to his description.

"As for relationships," he continued, and I knew he was enjoying himself way too much. "Nothing serious there. You would have the occasional fling because, well, you were a beautiful young woman, and the ones who were brave enough to approach you despite the toughness you put off would sometimes get lucky."

"I think there's a turn here," I said, feeling the wall with me left hand. I heard him smirk.

"In fact, all your relationships were like that. Until, of course, you fell in love."

He emphasized that word so much; I found myself clearing my throat, just wishing suddenly that we would change the subject.

"If you can guess," I started talking, "then so can I. I'm gonna guess about your life in college, what do you say?"

"I'd love to hear that," he informed, clearly amused, and, if I knew him, he was also challenging me to get something right.

"Well. You were, as you still are today, quite the entertainer, so you had a lot of friends, or at least people who would follow you, figuring you'd be at the best places, at the best parties, talking to the prettiest girls… and that was true."

"Oh really?" he said, grinning.

"You were quite the womanizer, of course, forming a long line of broken hearts. And may I say, some of them would even stalk you."

"Stalk me, huh?" I couldn't tell if he had enjoyed himself more when he was guessing about me or now, when I was guessing about him.

"As for the actual classes, well, you thought you were way smarter than all the professors, so, whenever you _were_ in class, at a certain point you would start speaking, disagreeing with the teacher, obviously, and messing with their heads until they made complete fools of themselves."

"Wow, what an asshole you must think I was," he commented, pretending he was hurt, but I could tell he sounded impressed by my assertion of what he would have been like in college.

Little by little, the other couples' sounds had started to disappear as people made different choices as to where to go. Right now we seemed to be all alone at that certain part of the maze.

"So why is it that you hate the darkness so much?" Jane asked me, leaving the college subject behind.

"What do you mean?" I replied defensively. "I just don't _love_ it."

"No, really," he insisted. "I can hear the anxiety in your voice. Was it something during your childhood?"

"Really, _Andrew_, I just wish I was somewhere else using my time better, that's all."

I hoped he could catch the final tone I had tried to employ.

"All right," he said, and I imagined he had his hands up in defense, and was probably rolling his eyes.

This is when I tripped on something and fell; it was so unexpected and weird that it took me a while to realize what had happened and, when I did, I instantly tried to talk to Jane.

"Andrew! Stop walking! I fell and I don't know which side I'm facing anymore."

"Did you get hurt?" I heard him ask, a bit farther from me than he had been right before.

"No," I said, too quickly, and then I stopped to evaluate if anything ached. "My knee hurts a little, but nothing serious."

"All right then" he said, calm. "Listen to the sound of my voice. Listen to me. Can you tell where my voice is coming from? Talk to me."

"I think so…"

"Then start approaching the place where you think my voice is coming from, and talk while you do it so I can see if you seem to be approaching or not."

"All right. I'm walking. Really slowly. And you know what? You're right, I don't like the dark."

"Oh, I knew it. I think you're coming closer. Why? Why don't you like it?"

"I don't know. I never liked it. I always slept with the TV on or something."

"You're coming over. That's weird for someone who's supposed to be… fearless."

"Who said anything about being fearless? Courage doesn't mean not having fear-"

"It means facing your fears. Meh. You're here." I felt his hand accidentally touch my arm. "Sorry," he said. "You're here."

"I guess I am."

"So let's go."

It was quite difficult to find our way, but we developed a walking system in which one of us was responsible for one of the sides and the other for the other side, so we'd walk next to the wall, feeling it with our hands, all the while talking to know we were still close, and telling each other were the walls were leading. At a certain point, he went back to the subject of youth and relationships.

"You regret not having had many boyfriends." It was not a question. "You were too focused on your future to care about the present."

"Now you're just guessing," I accused.

"Based on my knowledge of you," he countered. "You wish you had lived your young years with more intensity."

"Most people have that regret," I defended.

"Then you don't deny that?" he replied, and I could sense an _a-ha_.

"I was just making a comment. What about you, don't you regret not having lived your young years with intensity?"

"You're trying to change the subject," he said, but then answered. "If anything, I regret the excess of intensity."

"What do you mean?" I asked, truly curious.

"Ah, you know. I had just realized how good I was in my _job_ and how much money I could make and all the things I could do with that money…"

I wanted to ask about his wife's role in all that, but I still wasn't sure there weren't any microphones around us, so I just let it go.

"There's a turn here," I announced. "Should we turn?"

"No, just follow straight after the gap," he instructed.

Next, he asked questions about my brothers and what it had been like to raise them all alone after my parents had died. When I was tired of talking about myself and my family, I asked him to tell me about his dad.

"I know you don't like to talk about him," I hedged, much for the possibility that someone might be listening to the conversation. "But I'm curious, I'd like to hear more."

"There's not much more to say," Jane said. "He treated me as an extension of himself. Or an accessory. Not like a real person. Like something that he had that was supposed to serve a purpose…"

He blurted the last sentences out all at once, and I felt that he was almost relieved in telling somebody about that. I knew he didn't like to show his insecurities, his weaknesses, but as a person who doesn't like to share much either, I know it can feel good to finally tell someone. To my surprise, he went on.

"He had me believing I had to prove my worth every time. That I had to deserve him supporting me, feeding me. That being his son didn't guarantee that, so I had to earn it."

"It must have been horrible," I said, feeling really bad for him. "Maybe that's why you feel this need to show that you're better than everyone?"

"Am I that horrible?" he asked, and it sounded like a real question. Well, I had only been trying to understand his behavior, I hadn't really been criticizing it, not at that specific time.

"I'm not saying you are," I defended myself. "If you were, I wouldn't have married you and wouldn't be trying to fix this marriage."

I smiled, glad that he couldn't see it, and although that reply was completely bogus, I'd hidden some meaning in it, and I knew he'd realize that. So I was quite surprised when he didn't say anything about that, being silent instead. Until he seemed to find something.

"I think we're here," he said, sounding excited, and I knew he was right because I was suddenly able to see him, even though still in the shadows.

Then we walked a little further and, all of a sudden, we were surrounded by so much light that I could have gone blind. We were greeted by Coach Williams, Jenny and some other employees we'd never seen. And yes – we were the first couple to arrive. When Jill Williams handed Jane the tickets for the party, he wanted to know something else.

"What about out secret prize?" he asked, really smugly. I shook my head then.

"You'll find out what it is soon enough," she said, smiling. "Don't worry."

I took his hand and pulled him away from there, suddenly happy that at least having finished first certainly granted us some free time… or at least that's what I thought.

"We make a pretty good team, huh?" Jane commented then.

"Don't we?" I smiled at him. It was almost weird to be able to look at him again after almost an hour talking to his voice only. "Better than when you do it all alone and leave me in the dark, right?"

"This time we were both in the dark, weren't we, my dear?" he teased, with a slight squeeze at my hand.


	5. Sparks

_**Finally a new chapter. I know it's been a ridiculously long time, but there is a thesis I have to write also... Anyway, I would like to thank everyone who still hasn't given up on this story. I will finish it! **_

_**Hope you enjoy the chapter. :)  
><strong>_

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><p>4. SPARKS<p>

We were thinking we'd get to rest for a while in the bedroom before the dinner party. As soon as we arrived there, Lisbon ran into the shower, and I lay on the couch, waiting. When she came out, wearing a robe, she threw herself on the bed, probably intending to get some sleep, and I went into the bathroom to have a shower myself. Just when I was coming out, wearing jeans and a white T-shirt and thinking of ways I could get myself some tea, there was a knock on the door and there Jenny was to let us know that our special prize for being the first couple to finish the Maze challenge was that we would get special clothes for the party, and Lisbon would also get hair and make-up. If she were any other woman, she might have been thrilled, but Lisbon would probably have preferred to stay in bed a bit longer. So the slightly mortified look she threw at me when Jenny told us to follow her actually made me smile.

At a certain point, we were led to different ways and I was received by three very cheerful and kind middle-aged women, who were supposed to have me try a suit and then adjust it on me.

"I didn't know the party was that formal," I commented, when they presented me with the suits.

"It's not formal," one of them said, "but it's nice to dress up sometimes, isn't it?"

"Besides," the second added, "your wife's gonna dress up too, I bet you're curious to see her special dress, hair and make-up…"

I _was_ curious, but not in the way they were thinking… I was just… curious. Like I was curious about everything. I chose a suit that I thought would fit me well and went behind the curtains to put it on.

"Isn't that nice?" the third commented to the other two. "He's got that light in his eyes when he thinks of her."

"He really does."

"You really do," the first one informed me, in a louder voice, to make sure I would hear her.

"Do I?" I asked innocently.

"How long have you been married?" she asked.

"Seven years," I replied; while choosing the date of our marriage to have the fake documents done, I had chosen the date when we had met for the first time; it would help make it sound truer when we said it to people.

"And yet they still have that spark between them," the third one commented again.

"Oh, Marge," I said, having read her nametag, "we're having problems. That's why we came here…"

"Yes, but some couples don't have that light in their eyes anymore. Some just don't love each other anymore."

"Oh really?" I suddenly remembered Joyce Wyler's comment. "Would that be the case of the Demmings? The woman who died? I heard of it…"

I came out just in time to see the three women exchanging looks.

"Definitely," Marge answered, almost whispering. "I don't know what was with those two, they didn't even seem like they were married at all."

"It looks great," one of them said, and the other two agreed and came around me to start the adjustments. "Do you like it?"

"I do," I answered, after another quick peek at the mirror, and frowning about the Demmings subject. "What do you mean they didn't seem like they were married?"

"We dressed them once," the second woman, whose name was Elza, answered me. "And there was just no chemistry at all.

"Did they fight a lot?" I asked.

"No, they didn't," Marge said. "That's the thing; they didn't fight like other couples do, or look at each other like other couples do… It was weird."

"Do you think…" I started, but then pretended to be embarrassed. "No, forget about it. It's just nosy and completely inappropriate…"

"What, Andrew?" Elza asked.

"Do you guys think…" I bowed closer to them and whispered. "That he might have killed her?"

The three exchanged looks.

"I don't know," Elza said, and the other two said the same thing after her, all looking unsure and with what could maybe even be a hint of guilt of having made me suspect that.

I then changed the subject and they wanted to know about my wife; I started describing Lisbon, just the way she was, because they would meet her soon, so I tried to choose things they could observe later. I told them, for example, how she didn't care as much as the average woman about how she looked, even though she always looked great because she was just beautiful – I chose my words carefully, making them sigh in awe. I wasn't lying, of course, just trying to portray the husband in love, which amused them incredibly. It amused me, also, how easily I could play that role. The role of a man who was in love with Teresa Lisbon.

When I was ready, they told me where the hair dressing was, and told me they'd let my wife know about the light in my eyes when I talked about her. I wished Lisbon wouldn't laugh too hard when she heard it.

Hair dressing was fun, I was told about how beautiful my hair was, as well as how beautiful my wife was – she had just done her hair. The woman there told me about how shy _Anna_ was, especially when asked about me. I chuckled. Shy was certainly not the word to describe Lisbon, but I assumed she was playing it safe by keeping her mouth shut. After the hair dresser finished her work on me, she instructed me to wait outside in a small room.

About forty-five minutes later, a door opened and I saw Lisbon coming out. I think it was a reflex; I had to stand up as I took her in, and I couldn't speak for a second. She was wearing a dark green, strapless satin dress, which gracefully outlined her curves. The length was right below her knees, and she wore high heels. I could see she was a bit insecure about how she looked, even though I saw no reason why whatsoever.

"You look beautiful," I stated the obvious, my voice going awkwardly hoarse. I cleared my throat. "Those three girls are geniuses, that is the perfect color to bring out your eyes."

As if they needed any bringing out. She looked at me for a second with those huge, light green eyes, throwing me off balance for a moment. If she only knew the power she could have over me with so much as a look like that. She looked away hurriedly.

"Thanks," she replied, still determined to look away and visibly embarrassed. She even blushed, which made me smile. Then she completely changed the subject; she approached me, and whispered, "Cho called. The husband is clean, not even a speeding ticket."

The sudden proximity allowed me to smell her sweet perfume, and I had to stop myself from jerking back to escape from it. It made me think that we might be forced to do some acting later, during the party. It dawned on me how much I had always been at a safe distance from her, probably because my instincts were telling me I could develop some strong kind of attraction towards her, as well as how tonight I would probably have to surpass my own boundaries with her. I swallowed, but I didn't let her notice anything strange in my behavior.

"You make it sound like a speeding ticket is a bad thing," I smiled.

She scowled at me, making me laugh. I offered my arm. "Let's go? We have a party to attend. And I have some things to tell you as well."

On our way, I told her about the bits of information I had gathered at the dressing room. She was puzzled. Demming seemed to care about his wife. But I was told there was no chemistry between them, and we had been told they didn't get along. Yet, he was clean. This all seemed too weird, even for me, even though I had the feeling that there must be a very simple explanation lying behind the whole story, but which I just couldn't put my finger on yet.

We arrived at the grand salon, which was beautifully decorated with colorful flowers and candles. A good set of musicians played delightful background music, and many other couples, all dressed up as well, already sat at the refined looking tables with six seats each. As we entered, we were clearly the main attraction. Everyone was staring at us; all the women absolutely hated Lisbon for having the best dress on and the most beautiful hair and make up, and every man wished, if only for a second, that she was theirs. As for me, I was proud of having the most beautiful woman in the party's arm holding mine.

Seeing as all couples had to sit with two other couples, I suggested to Lisbon that we sat with two couples we hadn't had a chance to talk to yet. Observant as I was, I had seen earlier that one of the couples in the table was in the room next to the Demmings'. I hoped we could gather more information and that it helped me finally understand what was going on.

"Good evening," I greeted them, smiling widely. "My name is Andrew Coleman and this is my wife, Anna."

"It's nice to meet you," the man whose room was next to the victim's replied warmly. "I'm Jeff Wiggins and this is my wife, Miriam."

"Lovely to meet you," I shook their hands and so did Lisbon.

"I'm Joanna Flint and this is my husband Carl," said the other woman, looking at us apologetically, probably due to her husband's unwillingness to introduce them to us.

We sat and started chatting with them about how beautiful the party was and about the weather and the Maze activity and so on. I was observing our 'colleagues' the whole time; the only one who was quiet and not making the smallest effort to participate was Carl Flint. The couple from the room next to Alexis Demming's were lovely people, and I could see they were trying really hard to fix their relationship, by the way they kept forcing themselves to hold each other's hand, just so they would show to each other they were making an effort.

After the small talk, when the waiters started bringing the entrées, I decided to start pushing the subject we were really interested in talking about.

"This is wonderful," I said, motioning to the food. "This place is wonderful. Such a shame that horrible thing had to happen here and bring such bad publicity."

"Yeah it really is a shame," Joanna Flint said. "Everything here is wonderful and it seems to work on most cases."

She directed a hurtful look towards her husband, who seemed completely unaware of her.

"But it clearly didn't work for that poor woman who died," Lisbon said, shrugging and taking a sip from her drink.

When she spoke, Carl Flint's interest seemed pulled towards the conversation for the first time. Or maybe it was just who was speaking, because his eyes traveled slowly down Lisbon's cleavage. I suddenly found him even more hateful than before.

"You think her husband killed her?" Miriam Wiggins asked.

"I have no idea," I replied, my eyes still set on Flint, attentive to his every reaction.

"Our room is actually next to theirs," Jeff informed us.

"Oh really?" I asked, now directing all my interest towards him.

"But did you ever hear anything strange coming from there?" Lisbon asked. "Like fights or something?"

Jeff and Miriam exchanged a look, and then laughed.

"Absolutely no fights," she chuckled, blushing slightly.

"The only thing we ever heard was, you know…" Jeff tried to gesticulate towards what he meant, then gave up and spelled it out. "The sound of them making love… and really enjoying themselves."

"Oh," I said, smiling and looking at Lisbon.

I could see her trying to conceal her surprise; I had just told her how the girls in the dressing room were telling me about their lack of chemistry, about how they barely seemed to be a couple. This only got more puzzling, and, as much as I enjoy a puzzle, I do not enjoy the feeling of not having a clue what's going on, and that is exactly how I felt then. I remembered about the cameras and microphones in the bedrooms, and started wondering what we were going to have to do in order to be able to access those tapes.

* * *

><p>"Should be easy, shouldn't it?" Jane asked rhetorically. "We only have to tell Cho, then he and the rest of the team will get a court order asking for the tapes."<p>

"Jane," I said, pulling away from him so I could look directly into his eyes, but we didn't stop moving. "To get a court order we'd have to tell them that we _know_ they have surveillance in the bedrooms."

"And what's the matter?" Jane didn't seem to understand. To emphasize it, he tightened his grip on my waist a little bit.

"The matter is that as soon as the people here find out we know they have surveillance in the rooms, they'll know it was one of the couples who ratted them out. This whole thing could fall apart," I hissed impatiently, thinking that having that stupid plan fall apart and suddenly end wouldn't be the worst idea in the world.

"Fair point," he said, looking as though dissatisfied, probably because he hadn't thought of that detail.

"What are you, distracted?" I teased.

"Of course not," he defended himself. "I'm making considerable progress. By the end of this party I will have something concrete about this case."

"I hope you do!" I said.

We had left our new friends behind and gone to the dance floor in order to discuss the new information we had just been able to gather. Don't get me wrong; I agreed with Jane that the tapes – and not only the ones that would show the Demmings having – or faking? – sex, but any tapes that might show their interactions, would be of great help. I just thought that going to a judge to try to get a court order would completely blow our cover, and, if we had heard so many different things about the couple on the first day, we could probably use a couple more days to gather more information, as much as I hated this assignment.

And I really did hate it. I had loathed having had to pretend to the women in the dressing room and in the hair and make-up rooms that I gave a crap about any of that, just basically pretending to be someone I'm not even close to be. Even though, all right, I admit it, the women in the dressing room were really nice, and said that "my husband" had told them I really wasn't much into that whole thing. Still, it had been a bit painful not to lose my temper with them when they started talking about the light in my husband's eyes when he talked about me… Come on, give me a break! I wanted to tell them to shut up, that there was nothing between us and he wasn't my husband. But I couldn't, so…

But I decided to suck it up and ignore the uncomfortable clothes, and uncomfortable shoes, and all the pretending and acting for the sake of the progress we were making – even though we were only uncovering more questions instead of any answers. And to get some answers, I thought, we would eventually have to gain access to those tapes. I hoped Jane was coming up with an infallible plan to get them for us.

"What are you so lost thinking about?" Jane asked, bringing my attention back to him. "Glen Wyler can't take his eyes off of you… And I must say, he hates me right now."

For some reason, Jane tightened his grip around my waist even more. It made me hold my breath for a second, and he noticed it. I didn't know what he made of it, neither what I made of it. But that wasn't what mattered at the moment, I reminded myself.

"Are you sure?" I asked. "What about his wife?"

"She went to get them drinks. Apparently, when she's not around, he feels free to do whatever he wants… or stare at whoever he wants. And well, I have no super vision, but I bet his pupils are dilated right now. Of course they are."

I stared back at Jane then, and smiled slightly at the fact that his own pupils were dilated. Of course, that could be explained by the fact that it was kind of dark in the dance floor. And then, all of a sudden, Jane's face approached mine, and, close as we were, I could feel his heartbeat racing.

"Jane, what are you..?" I gasped.

He jerked back instantly, and directed his look to Glen Wyler again.

"I wanted to test something," he replied in a rush, "but I've just had a much better idea, a spectacular one."

"Which is?"

"I'm gonna go get us drinks and engage in conversation with Joyce Wyler, keep her busy. In the meantime, I need you to sit with Glen and be _friendly_. Can you do that?"

He let go of me, and I was surprised that it actually upset me a little.

"Yeah, I can," I replied, wondering what was on his mind as I turned my back on him and walked away.


End file.
